Locked Inside
by Geministarz
Summary: After an incident with Voldemort, Snape and Draco are forced to hide out with none other than Harry Potter--locked inside a Muggle house together for two months until school starts. No slash.
1. EXCUSE me?

Locked Inside  
  
.:Okay, haven't written a Harry Potter fic in a while now. Hope y'all enjoy this. I'm currently working on the next part. Ideas/criticisms are welcome:.  
  
The family living at number four, Privet Drive, if you could indeed call them a family, were just sitting down to Sunday dinner when something happened. The Dursleys, the main occupants of the house, were rather unused to strange occurrences, but Harry Potter, Mr. and Mrs. Dursley's nephew, was at first unfazed by the event. It all started with a simple letter.  
  
The letter, written in dark purple ink on a thick piece of parchment, would have upset Vernon Dursley in itself. The contents and way of delivery made him furious.  
  
Harry's eyes widened slightly as he glanced from the letter that had been dropped into the mail slot by a large barn owl moments before to his uncle's reddening face. The letter was addressed, he was surprised to notice, not only to himself but to his aunt and uncle. Before Mr. Dursley could begin his tirade, however, Harry snatched up the letter and opened it. Quickly scanning its contents, his startled expression grew even more pronounced. His cousin Dudley, who had been reading over his shoulder, his fear of magic momentarily forgotten in the midst of his curiosity, let out a slight shriek before waddling from the room, both hands clamped firmly over his behind.  
  
"Oh, no," Aunt Petunia snapped, knowing what this tell-tale sign meant. "I won't have any more of those freaks under my roof! Not after what happened last time!"  
  
Harry resisted the urge to smile as his thoughts turned to the previous summer when the Weasleys had picked him up for the Quidditch World Cup. Fred Weasley, one of his best friend Ron's older brothers, had given Dudley an experimental wizarding treat called Ton-Tongue Toffee. The effects had been disastrous, even though Mr. Weasley had straightened the whole mess out. The event was far from forgotten, however, and Harry had been paying for it ever since.  
  
Once again his thoughts were pulled back to the letter as his uncle began yelling, having snatched the letter from Harry's hands. This message, however, was not from the Weasleys, but rather from Professor Dumbledore himself, headmaster of Harry's school. If the letter was to be believed, sometime the next day Harry would be picked up by one of his Professors from school and brought to a "safer location" for the rest of the summer. It didn't say where he would be, but did comment that he should be prepared to go directly to Hogwarts at the start of the term.  
  
Harry glanced up as his uncle paused for a breath. "I'm sure it's nothing," he said. "The headmaster will know to send someone the normal way, and you'll be rid of me for the rest of the summer. No more magic."  
  
Vernon's face turned purple at the sound of the word. "HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU NOT TO SAY THAT WORD IN MY PRESENCE!" he bellowed.  
  
Harry shrugged. "Sorry, but you know it's true." His uncle began ranting again, but Harry knew it was only a matter of time before he convinced himself to let his nephew go. After all, it would rid him of the "abnormality" two months sooner than expected, and Dudley could have his second bedroom back.  
  
After a good fifteen minutes of yelling, which Harry easily tuned out, his uncle finally exclaimed, "FINE! But if they show up here, bursting through fireplaces and casting spells everywhere, you're never coming back here, understand?"  
  
"Perfectly," Harry replied. "I'll just go pack then." Without waiting for another word, he darted upstairs to his room. He quickly scribbled out a note to Hermione, explaining the situation and asking her to inform Ron. He quickly tied it to Hedwig's leg and told her, "Stay with Hermione for the rest of the summer, okay? I'm not sure where I'm going and I don't want you wandering around trying to find me." The snowy owl nipped his fingers fondly before flying out of the open window. It was near dusk and no one noticed her shadowy form gliding down the empty street.  
  
§§§§§§  
  
The next day at twelve o'clock sharp, the front doorbell rang. Almost instantly, the house went silent. Dudley had hastily flipped off the television and scrambled into the next room, one hand clamped on his mouth, the other on his buttocks. Aunt Petunia stood up nervously wringing her hands. Harry's trunk and school things had been brought downstairs earlier, and he jumped up excitedly. Uncle Vernon shot him a warning glare and hesitantly marched to the door and opened it.  
  
Harry tried to see past his Uncle's large frame, eager to know who had come to get him, but to no avail. Giving up, he quickly grabbed his trunk from the other side of the room as Vernon growled, "Who are you?"  
  
The young wizard inside instantly recognized the crisp voice that replied. "I am Professor Minerva McGonagall, deputy headmaster at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry." If she noticed the way the Dursleys flinched at the name and anxiously glanced around the street, she ignored it. "I'm here to collect Harry Potter."  
  
Vernon snorted. "Of course you are. Harry! Come here!" Harry obliged, casting his teacher a slight smile as he slipped past his uncle onto the porch. "There," the large man said, eyeing McGonagall suspiciously. "Now you've got him, so be on your way. That letter said something about urgency or some such." That said, he promptly shut the door in their faces.  
  
McGonagall glared at the offending object. "I knew Dumbledore had made a mistake leaving you here," she said, not particularly to Harry. "These muggles are just." She trailed off, glancing at him. "Right then. We'd best get going." Turning, she marched down off the porch, Harry scrambling behind her with his trunk. She led him to a nearby alley, where she paused for a moment, looking at him.  
  
"I'm about to do something," she told him, "that you are not to attempt to repeat until you have been taught how in your sixth year. Do you understand?" Harry nodded, curious. His confusion grew when the Hogwarts professor took out her wand and, glancing once more at Harry before bending down, quickly sketched a pentagon onto the ground around them. Standing up once again, she said, "Via."  
  
An instant later, Harry had the strangest sensation of the world melting away, and suddenly he was standing inside a room he had never seen before. McGonagall was still beside him, as were his possessions. "What was that?" he exclaimed, bewildered.  
  
The Transfiguration teacher gazed sternly at him and replied, "One of the older ways of transportation, from before Apparation had been thought of. And remember, you are not to try to do it."  
  
"Of course," Harry said, slightly annoyed. His fingers were itching to grab his wand and try it for himself, but he firmly resolved to keep to his word. Glancing around for the first time, he was startled to discover they were not alone. "You!" he snapped as his eyes landed on the figure sprawled across a chair in the corner.  
  
Draco Malfoy glanced up, his customary smirk fixed across his face. "Me, Potter."  
  
Before either of the boys could say anything else, McGonagall said, "If you'd both just step into the next room, I'm sure Professor Dumbledore will be quite willing to explain everything."  
  
To Harry's surprise, Draco simply obeyed without a comment. Harry quickly followed him through the door. Professor Dumbledore was indeed in the next room, and he was not alone.  
  
"Ah, yes, here they are now" Professor Dumbeldore started before he could say anything. "I'm afraid there's little time for catching up now, but rest assured, there will be plenty later." He smiled kindly at the boy before continuing. "Now, Harry, the reason you have been brought here is to ensure you a bit of extra protection for the remainder of summer break. You-along with Draco and Severus-will be staying here until the first of September, when the new term starts."  
  
Harry blanched slightly. It was bad enough sharing Hogwarts with Snape and Malfoy, but an entire two months locked in a house with them?  
  
"Until then," Dumbledore continued, "the three of you will reside inside these walls. None of you are to leave for any reason. We have taken care to put up a number of wards around the house, and we will also be performing Fidelius Charm. Minerva will be your secret-keeper. Unfortunately, we need to perform the charm and be off as soon as possible. Do you have any questions?"  
  
No one replied, and the headmaster nodded. "Then I shall see you on September first. Good bye." He got up and walked from the room. After glancing worriedly around at the room's occupants, Professor McGonagall followed him. The door closed behind her with an ominous thud.  
.:Hope you liked it. Btw, if you care, "Via" is Latin for "road." Made up the spell, and it is the only thing I own in the whole story. I even stole- er, borrowed-the title idea from Nancy Werlin . Great book, you should read it. Review, please:. 


	2. Are you SURE this was a good idea?

It took a few moments for Harry's brain to comprehend what had just happened. No one in the room moved or spoke for a long minute. Harry glanced curiously from Snape to Malfoy. He was obviously here for protection for the rest of the summer, but the others.  
  
Feeling a need to break the silence, Harry asked them about it. "Why are you two here?"  
  
Draco didn't meet his eyes, but glanced briefly at Professor Snape before looking away. "None of your business, Potter," he snapped irritably. "I'm going to look around upstairs." He retreated down a small hallway and a few seconds later the sound of footsteps above them could be heard.  
  
Snape looked at him coldly for a moment, then turned without a word and walked into a room that looked like a library, slamming the door behind him.  
  
"Or not," Harry muttered to himself, glancing around the room as if noticing his surroundings for the first time. He was standing in a kitchen, complete with a breakfast bar and stools. The cupboards were all stocked with food, and Harry had an odd feeling that they were magicked to stay full. There was a small stove as well as a microwave and refrigerator, and Harry realized that wherever they were staying, it was defiantly a muggle residence, judging by the electrical items.  
  
The hallway Draco had taken was lined with doorways. Assuming Snape had gone into the library, he assumed the other door led to a bathroom. A quick inspection proved the assumption true. The stairway at the end of the hall brought him to a second floor. The one closed door was presumably hiding Draco, and there were two more bedrooms, as well as a bathroom, closet, and another room that held a pool table, ping-pong table, and a small Nerf basketball hoop.  
  
Harry had briefly noticed that one of the bedrooms seemed to hold Professor Snape's belongings, so he quickly walked back downstairs to get his own things. After placing his trunk at the foot of his bed and Hedwig's empty cage on the floor next to his desk, he inspected the room. There was a desk in the corner by the window with a small lamp on top of it. A small bookshelf for his other belongings sat on the wall opposite the bed, next to an open closet. Inside was a small collection of Muggle clothes. A stereo system sat atop a chest of drawers with a book of CDs next to it.  
  
He grabbed the book and sat down on his bed to flip through it. To his surprise, the music he recognized was highly tuned to his tastes. Some of the other groups, wizard ones, he assumed, looked pretty good, too, and he wondered if someone had done this on purpose or if it was magic.  
  
He quickly grabbed a CD and put it in. A moment later, the sounds of Sum 41 floated through the room, and after digging through his trunk for one of his school books, Harry sat down to work on his homework.  
  
He'd only just started an essay for Transfiguration when Draco's drawling voice came from the doorway. "What is that?"  
  
Harry glanced up at him, then over at the stereo. "Sum 41."  
  
The Slytherin boy raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"  
  
"Sum 41," he replied, gesturing to the radio system. "It's a Muggle band. That thing on top of my dresser is called a stereo. You can listen to music through it."  
  
Draco couldn't stop the curious look from coming to his face as he crossed the room to stand in front of it. "Really? How?"  
  
Harry got up and walked over, quickly showing him how the radio, CD, and tape deck worked. "Do you have one in your room? You might have some different CDs."  
  
Draco nodded. "I'll grab that little book and bring it back here." A moment later he returned and handed the black case to Harry, who quickly unzipped it and began looking through them.  
  
"You don't have any of the ones I have. They're completely different. I've got more Punk than you do, and you've got more Rock than me. Put together, it's an awesome collection."  
  
"Rock?" Draco said, frowning. "I thought you said they were seedies."  
  
Harry couldn't help smiling as he explained the different styles of music. Draco seemed to understand. "We've got that in wizard groups, too, but we don't call them that."  
  
"What do you call them?"  
  
Draco shrugged. "I can't remember. I never listened to much music growing up, and I've only heard them mentioned once or twice."  
  
Harry nodded in understanding. "I never got to, either. My cousin's to lazy to get up and change CDs, though, so I figured out how to do it after a few tries."  
  
Having no idea how to reply to this, Draco merely shrugged and nodded. An awkward silence fell between the two for a moment. Needing to say something, Harry asked, "So, were you and Professor Snape here long before McGonagall brought me?"  
  
Malfoy shrugged. "Not really. We were at Hogwarts for a few days, and then Dumbledore brought us here a few hours before you showed up."  
  
Harry was dying to ask why he'd been at Hogwarts and not at home in the first place, but he restrained himself. By some miracle of heaven the two boys were alone in a room together and weren't killing each other, and Harry wasn't about to spoil it. A sudden inspiration struck him. "Hey, do you know what movies are?"  
  
"No," the other boy replied, glancing at him curiously.  
  
Harry grinned. He'd spotted a TV downstairs in the room McGonagall had originally brought him to, and there looked like there was some sort of black box underneath it that could be a VCR or DVD player. "C'mon, let's go downstairs and I'll show you."  
  
§§§§§§  
  
When they got downstairs they found not only a VCR and DVD player, but also a large collection of movies on VHS and DVD. Harry quickly explained what a movie was, exactly, and they spent a few minutes digging through them, trying to find something to watch. A short squabble broke out over what they were going to watch first, but they eventually decided to put in Star Wars, Episode IV, A New Hope. Harry remembered hearing Dudley wailing over it when he couldn't get the special edition DVD on the day it came out.  
  
The two teens were instantly intrigued by the special effects, and as soon as the movie ended, they quickly put in The Empire Strikes Back. About halfway through the movie, Harry glanced up and was startled to notice that Snape had joined them at some point. A forgotten book was lying open across the arm of the chair he was sitting in. Harry didn't say anything, choosing to ignore his presence for the moment in favor of the fight scene before him.  
  
§§§§§§  
  
When Harry woke up the next morning, he cautiously went downstairs to the kitchen in search of breakfast. He had no idea what time the other two occupants of the house rose every morning, and he didn't want to risk waking them. He was surprised to find both of them downstairs already, talking over mugs of dark, steaming liquid.  
  
Harry paused awkwardly in the doorway, not wanting to intrude. Draco glanced up and fixed him with a glare. "Well, come in already. You slept for half the morning, so good luck finding something to eat."  
  
Snape didn't say anything, but he didn't need to. Harry quickly grabbed an empty bowl, a box of cold cereal, and a jug of milk before retreating into the next room. Somehow he had a feeling he had interrupted something he shouldn't have, even if it was accidental.  
  
Deciding to check out the room that Snape had holed himself up in the previous day, Harry was pleased to note that he'd been correct in assuming it was a library. The walls were lined with shelves of books, save for one corner that held a computer seated on a desk with matching chair. A window jutted out next to, providing a place to sit and read by the afternoon light.  
  
Harry walked over to the bookshelves, scanning their titles. Some of them appeared to be classics, the titles familiar from years of Muggle School, but others appeared to be newer. He grabbed one at random-The Shadow Club, by Neal Shusterman-and sat down on the floor, using the window ledge as a makeshift table for his breakfast. After settling the bowl of cereal, he flipped open to the first page and began to read.  
  
The only movements Harry made for the next two and a half hours were to put his breakfast things on the floor and settle into the window seat. Only the turning of pages broke the silence that filled the room.  
  
That was how Severus Snape found him, curled up comfortably and completely absorbed with his book. The boy didn't even notice his teacher enter the room. After watching the boy for a moment, he stalked over to the last bookshelf, looking for a book that might hold him so enraptured. A few moments' searching later, he found one that looked promising. Normally he avoided anything with a title like Valentine like the plague, but the way it was written and what the back cover said caught his eye. Deciding to give Tom Savage a chance, he took the book down and, with one last glance to Potter, started to walk from the room.  
  
"So why are you here?"  
  
If the boy's voice startled him, Snape didn't let it show. "Does it matter?"  
  
He shrugged, not taking his eyes from the paperback in his hands. "Just curious."  
  
"Ever heard the saying, 'Curiosity killed the cat'?"  
  
Harry nodded, finally looking up. "Yeah, but if Mrs. Norris is still alive, I thought I could risk it. She's certainly curious enough, always nosing into our business."  
  
He has a point, an annoying little voice in the back of Snape's mind said. He ignored it and leaned back against the wall. "If you remember correctly, Dumbledore told you."  
  
Harry frowned slightly. "No, he told me why I was here. He just said that you and Draco weren't to leave the house, but he never said why."  
  
With a soft sigh, Snape frowned. "Well, I suppose you'll find out eventually anyway, so I might as well tell you. At the end of last school year, Dumbledore sent me off with a mission, correct?"  
  
Harry nodded. "He asked you to resume your spying on Voldemort."  
  
A slight expression of surprise flickered across Snape's face. He was surprised the boy had figured that out on his own. "Yes. Well, somehow I was discovered. Before I could be executed, however, young Mr. Malfoy stepped in and rescued me. His father disowned him, and Voldemort was furious."  
  
Understanding flooded Harry's face. "So you're hiding out, just like I am."  
  
"Correct."  
  
There was a brief silence in which Harry stared at the ground before him, eyes unseeing, a slight frown marring his features. Finally, he looked up. "Thank you for telling me."  
  
Snape glared at him, the usual cold man instantly returned. "Yes, well, as it's your fault we're in this situation at all, it seems you have a right to know," he snapped, sarcasm dripping from his words. Harry flinched.  
  
"I know," he said softly. Without another word, he turned back to his book, and a moment later, the Hogwarts professor left the room.  
  
*Sighs* I'd hoped it would turn out a little better. I'm not really sure where I'm going with this. ideas are welcome, although, no, it won't be slash. 


	3. I can't believe I

.:Many thanks to Nilboriel, who's review actually gave me the idea for what exactly I'm going to do with this story. Don't ask me how it inspired me, but it did, so I'm not complaining. Now, on with the show!:.  
  
With Harry safe behind the closed door, Severus Snape allowed his ever- present mask to slip partially, a slightly worried look on his face. The encounter hadn't gone as expected. The general way of things was that Snape would insult Harry or his family, and Harry would glare angrily and defiantly at him, but not say anything. The utterly depressed and somewhat guilty look the boy had given him.  
  
As much as Snape had despised James Potter and the fact that the man practically had the code for defeating Voldemort in his bloodstream, he couldn't help but feel the slightest twinge of guilt at knowing he had the power to intimidate the boy like that. In class he'd always shown a bold side of himself that was so utterly. Gryffindor it was disgusting. But the boy sitting in that window.  
  
Mentally slapping himself, Snape forced his feet to move down the hallway. Draco was watching something on the odd box in the living room, so he decided to go upstairs into his "room." The boy could deal with his own problems, and heaven knew that Snape had enough to feel guilty for already.  
  
The dismal hole that he was to live in for the next two months was nothing in comparison to his glorious dungeons at Hogwarts. He'd always appreciated the cold comfort they provided after a night spent groveling before the most wretched creature to ever walk the face of the earth, and seeing the open windows and bright colors contained in this room made his head hurt.  
  
With a mental sigh, he collapsed onto the bed, glancing at the book in his hand. Deciding not to start on it, he dropped it carelessly onto the table next to him and glared at the offending mirror that stood before him.  
  
He looked tired. And worse, old. Years of playing the double agent were taking their toll on him, and he knew it. He was far more irritable than he'd ever been in school, and the times he spent living on nothing but potions for the sake of his health had made him malnourished and sick looking. But the effects of the many curses thrown his way on a day-to-day basis could only be treated in certain ways.  
  
Refusing to let his mind wonder in that direction, he irritably grabbed the book again. He was trapped in a house with two adolescent boys, and the last thing he needed was a guilt trip.  
  
§§§§§§  
  
Draco Malfoy stared unseeingly at the moving pictures before him. Not that the "movie," as Harry had called it, was uninteresting, but he couldn't seem to get his mind to focus. It kept wandering back to that night. Part of him wished he had just stayed upstairs like he was supposed to, but if he had, Professor Snape would be dead.  
  
Contrary to the somewhat popular belief, he didn't rely on his father for everything. He made relatively good grades in school on his own, and he had a natural talent for potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts that was similar to Snape's. For that reason, he'd found himself oddly connected to his Head of House, and when he'd heard them torturing him from his place crouched at the top of the stairs. How could he not do anything?  
  
Violently shaking his head, he tried to force his thoughts away from that night. "What's done is done," he mumbled firmly to himself, once more turning his attention to the box in front of him.  
  
§§§§§§  
  
Harry Potter closed his eyes, resting his head against the wall behind him, fighting off the memories. The graveyard, Cedric, the knife piercing his skin, that hideous pile of rags wrapped around that wretched body, the cauldron.  
  
"Stupid," he told himself for the umpteenth time. "I knew there was a reason someone put my name in the Goblet, but no, stupid Harry Potter had to go thinking he's invincible, that whoever it was had been thwarted. And that foolish belief was what got Cedric killed.  
  
And as if that wasn't bad enough, now he had the potential deaths of every Muggle and good wizard in the world hanging over his head. If he hadn't let Wormtail cut him, Voldemort wouldn't have been brought back and the world would still be safe. But now everything Harry had worked so hard to become a part of for the past four years was in danger, and it was all his fault.  
  
He'd thought about ending it all. It would've been easy. Aunt Petunia had bottles of sleeping pills in the bathroom cabinet to fight her recurring insomnia. It wouldn't even have hurt. Just grab a handful, swallow, fall asleep and never wake up again. It's not like the Dursleys would have missed him. They probably wouldn't even have done anything if they'd found him on the bathroom floor, bleeding at the wrists. No, that wasn't true. They would've yelled at him for getting blood all over the floor.  
  
Yanking himself out of his depressing thoughts, Harry returned his attention to the book. No use thinking about that now. Even if he wanted to, it was too late. Snape and Malfoy might hate him, but Dumbledore would be furious if he found out they'd let him die. So he'd just have to deal. For now.  
  
.:So, whatcha think? This is the beginnings of my brilliant plan. a bit depressing, I'll admit, with not much character interaction, but I'm pretty pleased with it. We'll get them together next chapter. Or try to anyway. This was kinda updated fast, but I figured I'd post it anyway. Might make me get more reviews that will inspire my writing. Nilboriel, I hope this explains what I meant about it being his fault.:. 


	4. Generally, if it glows red, it means it'...

*~Aren't you proud of me? I've had this sitting in my comp for a while now,  
waiting to be finished and then posted, so I finally got around to it. Hope you like it, especially the first bit with Draco... Skye, hope you're happy now. And vanilla, I took the info about Harry's suicidal thoughts from my own brain. That's what I know about it, and that's what I assume he'd know about it, because he and I have never tried it before. Oh, and random comment... For some reason ellipses don't show up in fanfiction.net stories... Like, you know, when you put three periods in a row. So if you  
see something that's just got one and you're like, "Hey, that's weird,"  
then you know why. But anyway, on with the fic.~*  
  
Muggles, Draco grudgingly decided, weren't quite as stupid as he'd always imagined. In fact, some of the things they'd thought of to avoid using magic were positively astounding. Like that box, the TV. Ingenious. And the music contraptions they'd thought of were amazing, too.  
  
However, he thought to himself, some of the things they made were just plain dangerous. Like, for instance, everything in the kitchen.  
  
Three-quarters of the way through the movie he wasn't really watching, he decided to get a snack. That was his first mistake. Harry was still holed up the library, and Snape must have been upstairs somewhere. But, being himself, Draco had decided he didn't need help to work the strange Muggle contraptions.  
  
So, he'd gone about looking for something to munch on. First, he opened the big white rectangle that sat on it's short end, positioned between a strange, counter-high box with a door on the front and four dark circles on the top. The instant he opened it, his face was hit with a blast of cold air, and something big, hard, and frozen fell on his foot.  
  
He'd managed not to cry out at the sudden, unexpected pain as he shoved the item back in the box. It somewhat resembled a turkey. An uncooked, very cold turkey, but a turkey nonetheless.  
  
Then he cautiously opened the other side of the box. A slightly warmer flow of air came from this one, and nothing attacked him. Inside was an array of fruits vegetables, juices, and sandwich meats.  
  
Draco sighed as he closed that door, too. "I want something unhealthy, thank you very much," he mumbled to it. There was nothing in the contraption beside it, so he moved on to the cupboards. They, thankfully, contained something edible. He grabbed two bags of chips and stood in the middle of the room, looking at everything as he ate from one.  
  
There was an odd device on top of the counter. There were blades inside and a cord extended to the wall. Curious, he pushed a button on the base of the gadget, and the blades came to life with a vicious passion. Slightly unnerved, he moved on to the thing next to the different- temperatured box he'd opened.  
  
There was an array of knobs and buttons splashed across the back of it, and he hesitantly twisted one. The front left circle began to glow a demonic red shade.  
  
Knowing he was being very stupid, but doing it anyway, Draco brushed his fingers against it. He yelped in surprise as the machine burnt him. As he reached forward to try and undo what he'd done, shaking his fingers slightly, his sleeve touched it, and he instantly burst into flames.  
  
He quickly ripped off his robe, tossing it on the floor and smothering the flames. Glaring at the arsonistic device, he mumbled, "Fine, stay on. I don't care."  
  
More cautiously, he continued in his exploration. The sink, at least, did what it was supposed to. He grabbed the small black nozzle and squeezed the trigger on the alien mechanism, and was rewarded with a blast of water in the face. Feeling indignant, he dropped it back into place.  
  
There was another small black box hanging from the bottom of one of the cabinets. He opened it and shrugged when nothing happened. Nothing was inside, so he shoved the unopened bag of chips into it, closed the door, and began randomly pressing buttons.  
  
A light went on inside and an odd humming noise filled the air. The numbers he'd plugged in started counting down, and Draco wondered what would happen when they finished. Oddly enough, as the numbers grew smaller, the bag inside grew bigger. A slight frown marred his features as he wondered what could cause this.  
  
Suddenly, a loud exploding sound filled the air, and this time Draco couldn't help but cry out. Immediately, Harry was in the room, wand out and held in a threatening position. He was joined an instant later by Snape, who held his own wand in a similar position. Draco's eyes widened into the classic deer-in-headlights position as he faced them.  
  
Harry took one look at the mess in the microwave, the still-heated stove, and the smoldering pile of robes on the floor before bursting into laughter. Draco's eyes narrowed in anger.  
  
"Shut up," he snapped at the boy.  
  
Snape glanced between the two teenagers. "What, exactly, is going on? What was that explosion?"  
  
Draco blushed, and Harry laughed even harder, now doubled over on his knees. "Shut up, Potter!"  
  
"What-were-you-doing?" Harry forced out amidst panting for air and trying to control his laughter. Still grinning madly, he forced himself off the floor and moved to the stove, easily spinning the dial from eight, the highest setting, to "off."  
  
Draco crossed his arms indignantly. "None of your business," he snapped.  
  
"I repeat, what was that explosion?" Snape demanded.  
  
"The microwave," Harry supplied. "Draco must've tried to cook something for too long." He reached inside the device and pulled out a mangled mess of burnt plastic and potato chips, quickly dropping it onto the counter before he burnt his fingers. "For future reference, you do not put plastic in there," he added, his voice ringing with amusement.  
  
"Well, how was I supposed to know it would blow up?" Draco demanded. "Who would put that kind of freakish device in a kitchen?"  
  
Harry shook his head and began cleaning up the mess, sweeping the contents of the microwave into a trashcan. He picked up the forgotten robes and glanced them over. The sleeve was a bit mangled, but it would survive. "Here," he said, tossing it to the Slytherin boy. "Don't try to use the sewing machine. You might kill someone."  
  
§§§§§§  
  
After the fiasco in the kitchen, Harry decided that until the others learned how to work the Muggle devices, he would be the only one allowed to cook. He managed to pull together a decent dinner, which the two Slytherins accepted without thanks.  
  
When he finished eating, Harry wandered into the living room and put in a movie. Before he'd gotten through the previews, his housemates had joined him.  
  
No one spoke as they watched it, and when it was over, they dispersed silently. Harry was slightly surprised that there hadn't been any nasty comments towards him or his parents or his choice of friends, but he let it slide. Maybe the others were having an off day.  
  
Not like he needed the constant reminders of his own failures and mistakes. His conscience made him feel guilty enough, thank you very much. But still, he couldn't help but wonder what had gotten into the two.  
  
§§§§§§  
  
Draco was crouched at the top of the stairs, staring down futilely into the darkness below. He knew he shouldn't be-it was, after all, rude and disobedient, but he couldn't help it. He always heard the screams whenever Father had his "friends" over, and he was dying to know what they were doing, and who was screaming.  
  
But then he heard a new voice from the deep. A familiar voice, the same one that had cried out in agony moments before. The words were laced with malice, pain, and disgust. "I'm glad I did it. You're not worth it. You're not worth groveling and killing and destroying. You're nothing."  
  
"Professor Snape?" he mumbled softly to himself.  
  
Another high, cold, voice said, "Cucio," and more screams tore through the night. Draco winced, struggling to see anything, but for naught. He unconsciously flicked his hand to his pocket, checking for his wand. It was there, and he pulled it out. Truth be told, he didn't even realize what he was doing until he was downstairs, standing in the middle of a rather large group of Death Eaters.  
  
His father immediately jumped forward. "Draco, what are you doing here? I told you to stay upstairs in your room!" he snapped.  
  
Draco's eyes darted nervously around the circle, pausing briefly on his head of house's mangled appearance, before replying. "I heard screams," he replied, trying to stay as close as possible to the truth. "I thought there might be something wrong."  
  
That icy voice spoke again, and Draco couldn't help but shudder. "Draco, is it? I've heard a great deal about you, young Malfoy," it said as its owner stepped forward. It seemed to be the very embodiment of evil--tall, pale, almost one with the shadows, but for a pair of blood-red eyes.  
  
Draco didn't need to ask who the menacing figure was. "And I about you, Tom Riddle." He didn't know what had possessed him to say the man's true name, and he saw his father's hand lurch forward out of the corner of his eye, no doubt to strike him for his insolence. However, the slightest gesture from the older wizard made Lucious freeze.  
  
"I'm sure you have," Voldemort said, a smirk on his face. "Why are you here, Draco? Did you hear your precious Potion's Master crying for help? He is a traitor, boy, and he's getting what he's earned." The cold expression in his eyes left no doubt as to what exactly the Slytherin head of house was going to get.  
  
Draco abruptly lurched out of his dream, heart pounding. He took a deep breath and willed himself to calm down. The memories were bad enough in the daylight, let alone in the pitch-black or night. After a moment or so, he pulled himself out of bed, headed again for the kitchen. Water. That would calm him down. And now that he knew how to use some of the blasted Muggle appliances, he should be able to get it without alerting the entire household.  
  
*~Blah. Hope you enjoyed. I tried uploading it from a different typing  
program, so I hope this formats okay...~* 


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